Dream Job

Dan lay on his back, eyes almost closed. He pressed the ‘power’ button on the controller. On the screen above him, the cursor started blinking at the end of the last line. So far, Dan was just trying to remember to do everything correctly for a smooth power up. Now, with his latest novel in mind and the whole book on the screen above him, he scrolled up and read from the beginning of Dischordant’s last chapter (chapter 72):

A body was being dragged across the parking lot of the Greek Theater. Usually the coyotes just knocked over trash cans looking for food, but they got something extra today. The tuba player in tonight’s Orchestra, according to the first cop on the scene.

“So, what’s the deal? When was he seen last?” Minor yawned. He hadn’t slept much.

Officer on scene checked his notebook. “The gong player said his last part in tonight’s performance happened with maybe ten minutes left. First chance he got, he disappeared.”

“Neat trick with a tuba.”

“Apparently, something dramatic happens in the performance and the room practically goes dark. That’s when Peter Murphy, the tuba player here, saw his chance, at least that’s the theory. What happened after that, we’ve yet to find out, but there is security footage still to be watched. The Greek has a lot of security cameras. Management doesn’t like being sued.”

“You and management hang out?”

Minor didn’t wait for an answer. He took a drag on his vape, made to look like something a cop might smoke. Staring at Gary Sims, the forensics technician working the scene, Minor said, “Maybe this is our guy? Heck of a coincidence if it weren’t. Same orchestra and all?”

“Sure. I’ll keep it in mind.” Sims had the body on its back. “Didn’t need to preserve the crime scene thanks to the coyotes. Maybe round up the coyotes, that might be something. Find some evidence that way.”

“The tuba player was never considered a serious suspect. So of course, we have no connections yet, other than being in the same orchestra.” Minor thinks maybe he was done thinking out loud. Sadly, that’ll never happen.

After reading the beginning of the chapter, he began to write where he left off. He hit the power button. The WriterMRI machine took a minute to warm up. It was much quieter and smaller than the normal hospital MRI’s, this one especially designed for writers. You had to go through a significant training period before you could use it, about two weeks, but then it was ready. Then the ChatGPT knew the patterns the MRI made when you thought words and phrases. Then it could translate common images into words. Then, essentially, the damn thing could read your mind with ninety-eight percent accuracy.

Now, the words he thought appeared on the screen above him.

With the controller on his lap, he pushed action tag+dialogue. ‘Sims slightly adjusted the body, holding it up to look underneath.’ “Anybody call animal control?” appeared on the screen.

Dan pushed no tag+dialogue. “I thought that was your job?” appeared on the screen

Dan pushed no tag+dialogue. “Damn” appeared on the screen. Dan pushed action tag-dialogue. ’Sims pulled out his phone and began fingering a text. “I forgot they changed the rule.” Dan read along to make sure no mistakes were made.

He hadn’t used the machine much. The process was extremely slow. But Dan thought you might like to see what a pain in the.... Dan will now stop describing.

But it didn’t cost him anything, because he was the company’s paid spokesperson. He hoped the next upgrade would make it faster and somehow simpler. For the time being, thinking in the moment and typing on a keyboard was much faster, because Dan was a fast typist, a skill not needed for this machine, but the necessities of the machine did force him to think carefully. It slowed him down, in essence.

Until now, Dan had mostly used it for editing. Just lying in the machine gave him a different perspective. Today, he was writing the last chapter of his most recent Major Minor detective novel, due at the publisher’s mid-month.

No tag dialogue button. “So, any prelim on this?”

No tag dialogue button. “Near as I can tell before I get him back to the lab is he was stabbed in the back, probably. I need to get him cleaned up before we’ll know for sure.”

No tag dialogue button. “Et tu Brute?”

Minor leaned over and stared at a mark on the corpse’s left buttock. “This look like something?”

No tag dialogue button. “I don’t know, could be a bite mark.”

This went on for another forty minutes or so and maybe two pages of fiction were written.

Dan yawned and stretched. The text stopped when Dan fell asleep. But not for long.

The cursor continued blinking in the script above him as he slept.

Dan began to dream, and in his dream he sat up straight and jumped out of the bed running straight to the door, pulling it open upon reaching it. He leaned out and yelled into the dark night, “Where is everybody?” What he yelled appeared on the screen above Dan, because Dan was still asleep, still lying in the machine.

“Why do you care?” Came a loud whisper, like the wind. These words also appeared on the screen. This continued while Dan slept.

“I see. This is gonna be one of those nights.”

“You’re the one. You can’t sleep. You yell. Pretending I’m not you, I answer back. Nothing gets resolved. Sometimes I’m a scary wind creature.” The voice was calm, high, and scratchy.

“Is it time to wake up yet? This is boring.”

“Just lie back. Relax.”

Before long, Dan started to float, his body rippling above the bed sheet. He flipped over, facing down, the room disappearing below. The air was the perfect temperature. It was dusk. Barns, fences, and fields of crops moved far below. Horses galloped over some hills as Dan floated above. He didn’t fight it. He probably wouldn’t remember. Dan rarely remembered, but this dream was pleasant, so he would try. He’d tried lucid dreaming a few times, but it never worked. He decided to stop fighting and enjoy.

West Midland High, Dan’s alma mater appeared below as Dan floated slowly above. He recognized the side entrance.

Without warning, Dan was walking down the second floor hallway where he had history, carrying a backpack over his shoulder. Ahead of him strode Heather Collins. She was angry.

“You bastard. You fucked my best friend. I hope she was worth it. Asshole.” Before he could say anything, she walked away.

Dan had no idea what she was talking about. Heather and Dan did date, but it ended amicably, after graduation. He hadn’t seen her in years.

Now that Dan had been yelled at by his ex-girlfriend for some fictitious reason, what would happen next?

Oh crap. Dan suddenly realized what was going to happen next. The West Midland shooting from 2007. This was that day?

As if on cue, Josh Boatman walked into the hall. Dan remembered this moment. This was just before he started shooting up the cafeteria. The backpack slung over his shoulder looked like it had something hard and angular inside, something like a gun.

Dan walked up to him and slapped him on his backpack. Yeah, it was a gun. He could feel the barrel and the stock.

“So, what’s going on Josh? How are things?” They had worked together on a project in shop once.

“Fine. Can you not touch my backpack?” He was angry, looked like he hadn’t been happy in a long time.

“School can be a pain. The jerks in this school, you know? Do me a favor. See the school nurse before you do anything stupid.” Dan didn’t know why he was trying to talk the guy out of doing something that happened long ago.

Josh looked at Dan and tilted his head, his teeth in full grit. “What are you talking about, man?”

“I mean, I know how these dicks can be. If I had a gun, I might do something bad, too. But, they ain’t worth it, so don’t do it.”

Dan turned and headed for the playground exit. He could feel Josh’s stare as he walked away. He left the building, floated into the sky, his dream already fading.

His eyes slowly opening, Dan lay on his back in his WriterMRI. He stared at the screen which had been recording the whole time. On the screen were the last words Dan said to Josh before the dream ended.

Dan pressed the ‘print last session’ button. He didn’t know what to expect. The device used ellipses when it found a word it couldn’t interpret. Awake, Dan would do the correction, and then move on. He had a feeling this might be gibberish with the occasional obvious word or phrase thrown in like that last line he’d read before he hit the print button.

Dan was a little afraid at what he might see. Other than a vague vision of being in West Midland and seeing Josh and trying to talk him into seeing the school nurse, the dream was already gone from his active memory.

Jill, Dan’s assistant, walked in the door. She seemed upset.

“You went to West Midland High?”

Uh oh. “Yeah, why do you ask?”

“That story you wrote this morning... what were you thinking?”

“Story I wrote?”

“I read it first thing. It was disturbing. But, now it’s out there.”

“What are you talking about?” Dan had forgotten the rough drafts were sent out automatically to his followers when he hit print.